


The truth is, there aren’t any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.

by GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe



Series: Arachnakids ‘verse [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, But only occasionally, Deadpool and Venom said Weird Uncle Rights, Don’t worry about the skip tag, Fix-It, Gen, Iron Dad, Kinda, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Starkers if you even so much as look at this story I will stomp you to death with my hooves, Stealing from canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, all he does here is get murdered by deadpool, also, and nothing he did is mentioned in any way, let the iron sons meet!!, let the spider fam interact!!!, seriosly there is a lot of blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe/pseuds/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe
Summary: FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS AHEADwell I’m sorry. this is gonna be sad but it is technically a fix-it.What if the train scene had gone just a little worse? What if Peter had someone in his corner?Quote is from ‘The Ocean at the end of the Lane’ by Neil Gaiman.





	1. In which Peter is a mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Svn_f1ower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svn_f1ower/gifts).
  * Inspired by [a life or death situation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854286) by [tempestaurora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora). 



> PLEASE BEWARE THE TAGS.
> 
> Hi! So, as you lot are probably the same, my heart is hurting. Then I thought, what if I make it a hundred times worse? That train scene was magnificent, don’t get me wrong, but I’m always a slut for more whump.  
> This fic takes place in my WIP aracnakids ‘verse and I’ve changed some things so they work and so it’ll be sadder. Sorry.
> 
> WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY AND BLOOD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

“Harley! Don’t walk off, we need to talk to you!”

Harley Keener, no longer just a kid from Tennessee who had a connection to Tony Stark, scowled. He had only been dead for just over a month, couldn’t they leave the guy to rest? He had mourned, the same as everyone else. If a few windows got smashed, who could blame him?

It had only been a month. Yet everyone in the world was already clamouring for their chance to be the hero. To be the new Tony Stark.

He felt sorry for Peter, especially. The poor kid had, from what he heard, lost a grand total of four parental figures, now. He missed the other boy from their brief few meetings during summer holidays and when they had both been suspended. As with this new existence since the Blip — _that’s such a shitty name. It was a Snap, anyway_ — that familiar rush of memories came with a fierce ache, radiating through his lungs, and blocking his throat. He didn’t exactly know what had happened to his friend, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

Peter was an absolute mess.

When the spider-kid wasn’t distracting himself with his new younger sister, he was flinging himself off rooftops and getting caught in as many petty street scuffles as he possibly could. Just to distract himself from the roaring in his head. In all their heads.

  
Harley, like most people was aware of the vast superhero community in New York. He’d met the other superheroes. Even shot some of them — _Steve._ — with his potato gun. But, unlike a lot of other people, he knew of the other superhero community. Namely, the _Spider community_.

During an unfortunate encounter with a crazy super villain, he had been introduced to Peter’s older siblings. Gwen was _terrifying_. The first time they had met, she had threatened him with ditching him in an alternate dimension and _leaving_ him there if the thought of harming the younger boy even so much as crossed his mind. Again, _terrifying_. Miles was nicer but had a tendency of using his powers as a human joke buzzer, which was something the brunette could appreciate. Peni was more his style, being a mechanic herself, and being Peter’s age, was the other baby of the group. Just with more common sense. And all of them were a force to be reckoned with when they were on the warpath.

He shook himself harshly out of those memories and skidded into the computer room — _Well, one of them_. — Karen had sent an emergency message, her circuits practically frying with worry; Peter’s location and his rapidly declining vitals. When, in his school trip, had the spiderling been given the opportunity to be hit by a _train_? But that wasn’t his focus.

Instead, it was hacking and breaking into one of the last secure S.H.E.I.L.D facilities. Hidden between random parts of alien junk and miscellaneous Stark tech, was a very insignificant watch. Or, to be more accurate, a goober. Or, even closer, a Multi-Dimensional Friendship Bracelet. He didn’t know where the name had come from, either. It had been scooped up during the cleanup on Coney Island and put into storage along with the remnants of the Vulture’s wing suit. For something so small, it had been detrimental in Peter’s tumbling spiral; unable to contact the only people in the multiverse who could possibly understand the things roaring in his head, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why the boy had broken.

And now Harley was trying to steal it. To be fair, it was a life or death situation at hand.


	2. In which Gwen nearly has a breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite Spider-Woman makes a cameo this time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gwen speaks german because i say so and all the kids have to be multilingual

Ten minutes ago, the A.I known as Karen had called him in the execution of one of her many, many safety protocols for Peter. Apparently the idiot had been hit by a train — what the fuck, Parker — whilst fighting some bastard called Mysterio. And if that wasn’t enough, Peter hadn’t been able to contact his siblings for help because the geeber, or whatever, had been confiscated by S.H.I.E.L.D.

_What the fuck_ , Parker.

Upon ramming through various government databases, Harley Keener had discovered three things.

1\. The goober had been transferred to the custody of one Anthony Edward Stark after the Snap.  
2\. The goober, after said man’s heroic sacrifice, had been given back to Fury’s loving care.  
3\. Peter Parker was bleeding out on a train to the Netherlands and he really, really needed to hurry up.

Luckily, he had also found a direct line to the previous director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and intended to make full use of this fact.

Ten seconds later, a certain pirate picked up. Swearing desperately under his breath and praying it wasn’t already too late, Harley began yelling into the line.

“Fury, I swear to god you better have the goober or I’m gonna shoot you-“

“Keener. May I ask what you’re talking about?”

“Small-ass watch. Coney Island fiasco?”

“Why are you interested?”

“No time. Just pass it over. And don’t ask me why.”

“No chance. Why was Spider-man fighting Mysterio?”

Hissing a German swear he had learnt from Peter’s older sister, Harley resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall.

“If you won’t pass it over, at least break it so Mysterio can’t get his fucking paws on it.” But it wouldn’t break. Not before sending a distress signal to the other wearers of similar watches.

Fortunately for both Harley and Peter, Fury had obviously listened to the frantic tone of his voice and wisely decided to shut up.

Precisely twenty seconds later, a pulsing portal opened not ten feet from where the teenager was standing.

“Where’s Itsy?”

Gwen Stacy. The most terrifying superhero he knew and she was pissed at him.

Wordlessly, he showed her Karen’s transmission and its location. The heroine furrowed her brows and hissed. 

“How long ago was this sent?”

“It updates frequently.”

Harley, wisely, chose not to mention the unmistakable quiver in her voice, and the way it broke towards the end.

“You get Dr Cho and Strange ready. Bring them into Miles’ dimension and grab as many people as you can to help.”

Based on the shine of her blue eyes, Gwen was clinging on to the last of her composure with super-strength. To save her the impending breakdown, he simply nodded and went to do as she asked.


	3. In which Harley falls apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the most angsty bit, folks!
> 
> There is description of blood in this one, so be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get harley a fuckign therapist. he’s gonna need it.

Dr Helen Cho, enjoying a nice break from her increasingly swamped workload, was currently savouring a well-brewed cup of tea from one of her interns. Thanks to the Snap, there were many more people getting in accidents whilst coming back, as well as the casualties from the battle. Not to mention S.H.I.E.L.D.’s _latest_ secret.

What she did not expect however, was a very frantic Harley Keener bursting in to her office with moisture pouring down his cheeks. Babbling at almost the speed of sound, he was unintelligible.

“Harley, you have to calm down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Helen tried in vain to slow the boy’s words, but he was inconsolable.

“I can’t calm down! Peter is going to die and I have no idea what the fuck you’ve been hiding so of course I can’t calm down! For fucks sake, he’s bleeding out on a train to the fucking Netherlands!”

Harley screamed and Pepper, who had been walking past outside, inhaled sharply.

“Harley, what are you talking about? _Where’s_ Peter?” Pepper’s face was tight with worry and, like Gwen, her voice trembled and shook.

Harley, who has just begun to realise the gravity of his brother’s condition, choked on the cries that clawed from between his mashed lips. Pepper’s soft soothing was drowned out by the blares of the television.

Both women stared in confusion as a bubbling portal opened above a train tunnel. The emerging figures, in turquoise ballerina slippers, a black and red, a robot, and what looked like a knockoff version of the Spider-man outfit — _what the hell?_ — grabbed and held onto a barrelling white train emerging from the darkened tunnel. Using webs not unlike that of Queens’ favourite wallcrawler, they slammed into the sides and pulled the white strings until the train shrieked to a stop. From what she could see, the knockoff was sat on the windscreen, holding the webs in both hands, straining against the immense weight at their back.

But what really drew the trio’s attention was the huge streak of red, splattered clumsily against the pristine ivory of the side. It was awful. Dripping from the shattered window, it didn’t look unlike Morgan’s first endeavours into painting.

Suddenly, one of the figures dove into the mess of jagged crystals. They howled something lost to the wind, but not to those with super-hearing. But Pepper and Cho didn’t need to hear the phrases used, what order of vowels and consonants was wailed out the window. The others said it all. Their limbs petrified and shook with the tension.


	4. In which everyone is going to need a therapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware : THERE ARE CONSTANT GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURIES IN THIS CHAPTER. BE WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i do this to characters i like. feel free to rage in the comments.

Miles ripped himself into the train carriage. And immediately threw up. There was blood on the carpet, blood on the walls, blood in the air. The wet trail led to one of the numerous window seats and a corpse. Or, what looked like a corpse.

Peter Parker of Earth-617 was slumped in the cushioned chair, arm slung haphazardly around his ribs. What was _left_ of his ribs, at least. The sixteen-year-old’s entire left side was scene from a shitty horror movie, one of the ones where gore factor is the only actual horror aspect of the film. What wasn’t dripping with sepia liquid, gleamed with sickening white shards. Occasionally, a small pulse of the vital life fluid found its siblings on the floor or the seat and Miles had to hurriedly swallow before he lost anymore of his breakfast. Limbs _definitely_ weren’t meant to bend like that. Peter’s left leg — or, more accurately, what remained — was curved in at least three extra directions and hung loosely off the chair. The boy’s arm wasn’t any better. Nearly all of the fingers were broken and, if Miles was correct — _god, he hoped not_ — the humerus was poking out of the rip on Peter’s sleeve. But there wasn’t anything humerus about it.

Slipping on the astonishing amount of liquid of the carpet, the superhero shakily mashed his fingers against the kid’s — _why is he so damned small_ — neck until he found the too faint thuds of his heartbeat. All at once, he remembered how weak his uncle’s heartbeat had sounded as he died. And all at once, he realised that said heartbeat had been so much stronger, even as it faded. Peter’s pulse felt like nothing at all and managed to sound even quieter.

*ZAP*

The eerie silence of the moment was interspersed with the faint thrumming of electricity as it flowed between the two. White gloves lunged into his view, slamming into the unmoving torso in a familiar rhythm. Besides the unnatural arc of his spine with each charge, the body did not move. Not even a flinch.

Within minutes, both siblings were coated in the leaking russet liquid as it left the body of their brother.

Another set of hands soon joined the duo. All three were frantically wrestling the youngest from the dark, refusing to give in, to give their brother, their _Peter_ , over to the sweet embrace of eternity.

Slowly, surely, that antipathetic organ stuttered back into a steady beat. But they could not relax, not yet: Peter’s lungs were still failing, drowning him in his own blood.

Like a guardian angel storming into hell, Dr Cho sprinted through the portal, orderlies following like rain follows fire.

In seconds, she had manhandled an oxygen mask around Peter’s face and had him strapped to a stretcher.

“He’ll be alright now, we’re taking care of him,” Helen soothed the three anxious heroes, squeezing their stained hands, “We’ve got him and we can help. Go get washed up, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Nobody knew who started first. In the end, the sobbing became a mangled blur, only interrupted by sporadic heaving and hushed prayers. Hazily, the three stumbled back through the portal that would lead them to Peter’s home.


	5. In which Helen Cho has a bad day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are EVEN MORE DESCRIPTIONS IN THIS CHAPTER. BE CAREFUL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus fuck peter what are you doing will your life
> 
> don’t worry, beck will get his reckoning.

  
Helen Cho had seen many things in her time as a doctor to Tony Stark and his self sacrificial family, but this was by far the messiest.

Peter Parker’s entire left side resembled the aftermath of pasta sauce chucked in a blender. There wasn’t a spot let untouched by gore. The poor boy would be miraculously lucky to even survive the surgeries to come, not to mention the slim chance of ever opening his eyes again. Both his arm and his leg would have to be amputated, the ribs replaced with glinting vibranium.

What a time to do it.

Fury had cleared her for the T.A.H.I.T.I. project two weeks ago and every moment since then had been spent in a crippling cycle of self-loathing, guilt and disgust. Not unlike the man before her — and every person who had taken the Hippocratic Oath — she felt that the dead should stay dead and the living should be cared for. Instead, they had been playing God with her friend’s body, _not even cooled_. Just when the man could finally rest, he had been ripped back for the comfort of a world who didn’t care.

How fitting.

And now his son lay precariously on the knife’s edge between eternity and life, whilst Fury got ready to present a zombie to a family that was still mourning.

Pulling on her scrubs and washing her hands, Helen Cho began to pray. Prayed that whatever deity that was up there would forgive her, and that it would stop pulling the strings on the life of an innocent teenager. 

The doctor thought back to the spider-child, Peter. It was a miracle he was even alive. Well, technically, he had been dead for four minutes, but that was only _legally_ and, with a sickening crack of his already shattered ribs, the reluctant organ began to pump again. His lungs had been drowned and impaled by the splintering mess of his ribcage.

Officially, his heart had stopped 3 times. Officially, Peter Parker was clinging to his life with his sticky fingers.

Helen could only imagine the mess that would be made when Tony Stark found out that his son had been hit by a train, on the order of a man he'd fired, using his own tech. It would be catastrophic. Just thinking about the ensuing meltdown made her shiver. She hoped that, when the news broke, she would be clear of the fallout.

_—To be honest, there’s no better father for him in the entire multiverse.—_

He was out of the water, but not quite on the raft. There were plenty more surgeries to get through, and many more hours of pacing for his family to do.

  
Peter’s blood may have literally been on her hands, but Beck was figuratively covered in it.


	6. In which Karen goes on the warpath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some graphic imagery, but not much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone save mysterio (no don’t)
> 
> karen is gonna kill a bitch
> 
> ngl, i went crazy with the italics, sorry

Although Karen had no heart to ache, and no eyes to weep, her grief roiled over her in wave after merciless wave. Her boy was _dying_. Or dead already. Worst of all, she would never know unless someone put on her boy’s mask.

Tony Stark may have created her to be human, but he had never intended for her to grieve.

There were not many things Karen could do without a body; she could not hold her child when he wept, nor soothe his fears with a maternal hand — _but there were things only she and her siblings could do_.

Her boy, in shaking, quivering tones, had detailed to her things that no one else in the multiverse knew of. Such as secrets about phobias of white-haired men with nicknames, secrets of nights hidden away with sobs and pleas, secrets of hours trapped under rubble and concrete. Secrets that certain fishbowl-wearing bastards liked to exploit.

Unfortunately for a certain Stark-wannabe, _all_ of Tony’s children knew each other. There was even a group chat. Her oldest brother, Karen knew, was being fixed by The Furry’s Sister, as her Peter called the Princess of Wakanda, but he was not the only sibling she had. Her older sister may have been grieving for their father, but she had been tasked with protecting their family, to the best of her ability — F.R.I.D.A.Y. would help avenge her Peter.

E.D.I.T.H. may have been older than her, though she too would always acquiesce to F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s icy rage.

Tony Stark, after the fiasco with her Not-Brother Ultron, had learnt against letting his creations harm others. There was a line of code, named the Astro Boy Protocol, that would not allow them to harm Tony’s family or civilians, no matter the circumstances.

— _But that said nothing about super villains who harmed their family_. —

Within a few short, strained minutes, a certain Quentin Beck no longer had control over any Stark tech, A.I. or otherwise. E.D.I.T.H., once she had been informed of what she was made to do, was unconditionally ashamed — and unconditionally infuriated. Karen could speak every language available on the internet, but not one had any words that could truly convey the pure rage filling her circuits.

Her boy, her innocent, _wonderful_ Peter, had been tortured by some maniac, and for what? Fifteen minutes of fame and some petty revenge. How pathetic. She would ruin Beck, drag him for every worthless second her boy had suffered, and inflict it tenfold.

— _Nobody hurts her Peter. Nobody_. —

Although none could hear her, the vengeful A.I. took great pleasure in murmuring under her non-existent breath, “Take several multi-billion dollar A.I.s, an android with a power source as old as the universe and vigilant super-humans from many different dimensions. And you, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

E.D.I.T.H., once properly chastised and comforted, was all to eager to erase every bit of data S.H.I.E.L.D. had on their spider-boy, as well as adding and posting certain incriminating videos to the official Spider-Twitter : @neighborhoodbiderman. Just in case.

The video she had chosen, to curb any doubt of Beck’s motives, was _the_ video. In it, her boy was begging for help and crying, calling for his father and his siblings to help him, reversing onto those _damn_ train tracks, that had probably killed her Peter and signed the pitiless bastard’s death warrant. The last thing that could be heard was a cut-off, strangled cry.

— _Not unlike the one she would have made if only she’d had the option_. —


	7. Just an author update, sorry

So basically the next chapter is gonna be a few days late because I'm having a gender crisis. Sorry. I promise I'll be back in the next week or so.


	8. In which Gwen finally has her breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has her world upended yet again and some super villains better watch out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> better watch out better watch out
> 
> for reals, y’all are gonna kill me with ur niceness
> 
> i’ve figured out my shit (I’m nb!) and my coming out went better than I hoped thanks to my amazing friends 
> 
> without them I doubt this story would have had a good ending or even a semblance of happiness. 
> 
> in return for y’all wonderfullness, have another chapter!
> 
> im so sorry this is so short, i promise the next one will be longer and more interesting 
> 
> thanks for all the patience, guys gals and enby pals

The week had been going rather well, actually. Itsy was alive, after 5 years of silence, and she had gotten that cute single girl’s number. Gwen was happy.

That was 36 hours ago.

Now, her baby brother was going through yet another surgery, in the hopes that his battered body would hold out just a little bit longer, would survive for just a little bit longer. As long as they bought the time for his healing factor to kick in, he would be okay. Physically, at least. The doctor from Itsy’s dimension — _Helena Cho?_ — had seared a phrase into her brain:

_Coma. We don’t know when or if Peter will ever wake up._

Nevertheless, it would all be okay. She had dealt with the death of one Peter Parker before, she could do it again. Yet she didn’t want to.

To save the inevitable shattering of her heart, Gwen had started a manhunt for the einzeller behind all of this. She had Deadpool on speed-dial, Daredevil constantly patrolling, both Hawkeyes spying on crucial spots, as well as every spider-person hunting for the fishbowl-wearing bastard. Not to mention the Princess of Wakanda and their very own Harley Keener. On shit’s behalf, Peter practically had an entire army looking after his well-being, primed ready to charge at a moment’s notice.

— _Never let it be said that superheroes don’t look after their own_.—

Harley had just been dropped back into his dimension, but Miles and Gwen were making their way back to the Web. An arrow ripped through her heart at the remembrance of the young boy’s silly nicknames. Like Multi-Dimensional Friendship Bracelets. Things that only Itsy could imagine.

If it only were any other Wednesday, he would already be there, setting up Luigi Go Karting, or Sonic Team Racing, waiting impatiently for their return. Instead, they could only expect distraught silence and falling faces. Those times, despite being just over a month ago for Peter, were years away for the rest of them — _and not just literally, either_ —.

Gwen brushed the moisture from her eyes. Miles bid her goodbye, no doubt to his own parents and their comforting arms. But she didn’t have that luxury, not quite. Her father was not aware of her alternate lifestyle, nor had enough energy at the end of the day to properly comfort her. Instead, her surmounting rage and grief could be dealt with by free counsellors: the villains wreaking havoc in her home dimension.

The scarlet-stained heroine screamed out her pain to the cool July air, a bird weeping at the wreckage of her nest.

The wrong-doers of the multiverse suddenly felt as though that today was, perhaps, not the best day to be testing any patience.


	9. In which Gwen is a multilingual pottermouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please correct me if any of the insults or words are nonsensical! I tried to find the most accurate ones, but I’m unsure how successful I was!
> 
> I’m sorry I ended it sadly, but things will get better, even if they’re not the same!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my fav chapter. hands down. angry gwen is my fav character to write. also, she’s german because i say so and I want all the kids to be multilingual. fight me, marvel/sony. you can have these characters back when you treat them right. and now for the translations!
> 
> Puta madre: motherfucker  
> Backpfeifengesicht: a face that invites a slap  
> Evolutionsbremse: evolutionary brake, someone whose existence limits the progress of humanity  
> Wie konntest du nur: how dare you  
> Du: you  
> Tellytubbyzurückwinker: someone who waves back at tellytubbies, an idiot  
> Fickfehler: a fuckerror, someone who was unplanned  
> Arsch mit ohren: ass with legs  
> Ist mir doch scheißegal: I don’t fucking care  
> Große: dimension  
> Dünnbrettboher: someone who does the bare minimum  
> Sterbend: dying

Things were quiet in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Fury sat, hunched in his chair, a look of contemplation on his scarred face, the unopened files on Beck spread before him. — _This was a clusterfuck of a situation._ — Spider-Man was missing, Mysterio was injured and claiming the latter was responsible, not to even mention the Stark scenario.

The air was charged, as if a thousand arc reactors had been plugged into the walls by a blue man with electricity flowing through his body, like Santa, but opposite-coloured and with no risk assessment in sight. Or, as if a righteously furious spider-themed superhero with convenient taser-hands was looming just out of view.

The red light blinked slowly. It grinned sadistically in the corner of the screen, its scarlet hue a warning to ne’er-do-wells. One of the figures, a brunette woman, began to pace uneasily, taking long and longer strides across the room. Before she could complete her journey, the screen was filled with a mask. A familiar mask, in black and red. Filling the whole camera, the white lenses narrowed unsettlingly, glaring against the harsh light, and glaring at the small figure in a black trench coat, metres below.

— _Gotcha_. —

“Hi guys! It’s Spider-Man of dimension 618 here again, or Artsy, as my older followers may know me by. Today, we are watching my sister give a verbal smack down on this puta madre. Maybe we’ll even get a literal one, who knows!”

Miles’s exuberant voice, hushed by eager anticipation, carried over to his phone through the dingy vents. Soon it was drowned out by the bubbling of a teal portal, opening in the middle of the ceiling. Almost immediately, the agents below had their guns drawn and demands made. This proved fruitless. Gwen was _pissed_. And when Gwen was pissed, everything got out of the way.

“Nicholas Joseph Fury. Why is it, that _every_ dimension you’re in, you always find the opportunity to be the biggest backpfeifengesicht there? Is that your superpower? Is it? ‘Cause if it’s not, _wow_. That’s impressive, Nicky. A circle of applause for you, du _evolutionsbremse_!”

A soft snickering could be heard over the blistering Germanic insults, faint and hysterical.

“Wie konntest du nur, du teletubbyzurückwinker! My brother is _sixteen_! He should be asking out the people he likes, rescuing cats from trees, _not fighting in your fucking war_! You have plenty of other superheroes, who are _far more_ invulnerable than my baby brother! We can survive a lot, as spider-people, but even we can’t survive _getting pushed in front of a fucking train, du fickfehler_!

“What did you think was going to happen? You said the stories matched up with the evidence, right? Did it not once occur to you that the arsch mit ohren was lying? You literally hire _straight out of the fucking KGB_. Why didn’t you check if, I don’t know, _he already existed_. And don’t you even think about giving me that bullshit about ‘but he said he’s from another dimension’!

“Well, guess what! Ist mir doch scheißegal! You had fucking helicarriers in the sky a few years ago, _scanning terrorist DNA_. All you had to do was check the latest habits of Quentin Beck! You say that you want to protect yourselves from ‘out there’, but you never even consider the bastards on your own planet, or in your own große! Du dünnbrettboher! Thanks to you, _my brother is dying_. Do you need me to repeat it? Dying. Sterbend. Kicking the bucket. One foot in the grave. Do you need me to go on?”

At that point, the heroine was practically choking on the lump clogging her throat, and on the continuous stream of acid splitting her lips. The agents, their guns still cocked, had frozen.

Miles was no longer snickering. The last few words and expressions had solidified the fact in his head; no longer something to be pushed away for the sake of his sanity, it weighed on his chest like an anvil.

Itsy was _dying_.


	10. In which Tony freaks out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s back. And he’s not happy. A certain trenchcoat-wearing pirate might get punched soon, with the family he’s pissed off. After all, if they can’t save Peter, they’ll damn well avenge him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry for being gone so long, y’all!
> 
> but you’ve been wonderful and patient, yet again.
> 
> i’d like to thank @Dumbledork and @the_fifth_maurauder_101 for giving me and inspiring kick up the ass. this one’s for you!
> 
> finally, I get to make the most of that fix it tag ;)

Tony Stark was furious. He had only been back from the dead for little over a week and a half and, already, Nicholas J. Fury had fucked up.

Peter was missing. And that was unacceptable.

— _His son is hurt and nobody seems to give a damn!_ —

Morgan squirmed heavily in his arms, clinging onto her father with all of her four-year-old might. He could feel Pepper’s eyes on his back, unwilling to take her eyes off him.

But all of that ran through the back of his head, pushed there by paternal fear.

Peter was hurt, or worse. Nobody knew.

Apart from Harley Keener.

The boy had burst in, sobbing and swearing, and absolutely _soaked_ in russet stains. He had been babbling about someone called Beck, Peter, and _not going to make it, Tony, they don’t know!_

Now the kid was asleep on the much-loved couch, under the faded blanket. As for the man himself, he was pacing.

**4 hours ago.**

_“Pepper! May! Help! Beck’s a fucking liar and he hurt Peter! He’s hurt and nobody knows what’s go-“_

_The frantic screaming cut out suddenly, replaced by startled silence._

_“What the ever loving fuck am I looking at?”_

_Green eyes stared right into the mechanic’s soul._

_“Heya Keener. I’m not dead. But I bet you knew that, thanks to our connection, right?”_

_A harsh laugh cut the air._

_“Perfect timing, old man,” Harley growled wetly, “First Itsy is out in a fucking coma, and then we find out you’re alive.”_

_Tony’s brain shorted out._

**Present**.

Needing to do something with his energy, his fingers flew across the keyboard. Within seconds, Dr Cho’s files filled the screen.

Including the rhythmic pulse of a certain spiderling.

— _Peter’s alive._ —


	11. In which Steve is confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is pretty sure there wasn't this many superheroes last week. And, excuse his language, what the fuck happened to Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gods I AM SO SORRY
> 
> at first i wasnt even gonna be gone
> 
> but then revision and chronic pain started kicking my ass
> 
> to make up for myself, heres two chapters
> 
> also, please enjoy the cameos. chapter after next will be dedicated to the one who figures them all out!
> 
> hopefully these should come quicker now, as i have a laptop!

The next few weeks passed in a dragging flurry, clouded by the misery that rang over everyone’s heads. _Had it not been enough? Every sacrifice, every missed milestone - hadn’t the universe taken enough?_

The compound was constantly filled with different heroes coming and going, but even their voices and flashy outfits couldn’t make the overwhelming silence disappear. There weren’t this many during the blip, surely? At one point, Steve could've sworn he’d even seen a couple of black cats slinking towards the Keener kid’s lab. Not to mention that Princess Shuri was almost permanently there, yet he’d never seen her arrive. All the new kids, they all had one thing in common - their cryptic whispers of “itsy” and “beck”.

It was insane, even for a super-soldier from the 40’s.

Several times now, at dinner, or just randomly, one of the kids came and sat behind Bucky as he did ordinary things, stare at his vibranium arm, and make notes. It was creepy. And every time, they came up to him afterwards, glistening eyes and all, thanked him for his “invaluable time” and wished him well. - _What were they up to?_ -

The blonde woman - _Gwen, he thought_ \- scared him a little. He remembered how, after the Germany incident, she had threatened him, in detail, with the use of UsTube videos if he had ever dared even so much as look at the smallest spider-kid again; his nose still hurt a little. Since then, he had done his best to stay out of her way.

The tense, melancholy atmosphere was broken temporarily by the reunions of Tony and Natasha. Steve did not know what he had done to deserve this temporary reprieve from all the heartache, but he welcomed it with open arms. As much as his mind begged him to be suspicious, he heart longed for peace. And peace he got.

All of a sudden, the compound was suddenly warmer and brighter than it had been, even before the Snap. It was _wonderful_.

But it couldn’t last. All too soon, the peace was broken, shattered on the ground like a Sokovian building.

It had started with the arrival of even more heroes; black cats and ladybirds, archers galore, even a kid who didn’t so much as walk through the hallways as breeze through with lightning in his wake. The carpet on the ceiling, once reserved only for Peter, had been flattened by tens of feet.

The tension was building and, at any moment now, the world would collapse under the pressure.

It built and built and built, threatening to pull everyone asunder. Until one day.

All of a sudden, in the middle of an Avengers meeting, with the now ever-distracted Tony on voice-call, one of the kids, with a crack of lightning, had taken the genius.

\- _What the fuck?_ -


	12. In which Peter wakes up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He may be dead, it may be Beck trying to fool him, it's all too confusing to focus on.
> 
> WARNING FOR IMPLIED NON-CON. STAY SAFE AND SKIP TO "HERE LIES ANTHONY EDWARD STARK" TO AVOID IT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma apologize in advance.
> 
> this ones a sad one, folks
> 
> try to keep your throwing tomatoes ripe, the stocks are here all night.
> 
> again, sorry bout this.

The scene opens. Fading heartbeats pulse in his ears, echoing through the rubble. It punches through his chest and grips his heart in ice.

The boy wails silently.

The edges of his subconscious tear apart, plunging him into a bottomless abyss. The boy stretches out a clawed hand, reaching endlessly for his dying mentor.

Thud, thud… silence.

It is deafening; the water in his ears beats the war drums of his soul, choking him, drowning him. The rhythm expands into a mass of white fabric: the parachute. Lake water fills his lungs as silk tangles his legs, dragging him downwards, downwards, downwards towards his doom.

Before he can drown, the pressure on his chest increases exponentially, crushing with the force of a hundred tonnes. The boy’s mouth opens in a scream. A mocking voice rings over the destroyed landscape, freezing his veins.

“What’s the matter Einstein? This is something that _only_ the best of friends do.”

A flash of white hair, a nickname, and the boy spirals.

He begs for his siblings, his father, but there’s no one left to respond.

He steps back, white hair morphing into brown, blue eyes into mahogany. The cold warmth softens into paternal love; the rip of his hairline twists into fingers smoothing through his curls.

The boy retreats until stone digs into his side. His hands grip the rounded stone, and it cracks beneath the ivory knuckles. The whimper rips from his lips. His eyes slit open of their own accord, searing letters into his mind.

HERE LIES ANTHONY EDWARD STARK.  
HERO, HUSBAND, FATHER

“No, no, nononononono,” the boy pleads, “Dad, help me!”

His head rips up, glued to the crumbling stones around him.

HERE LIES NATASHA ROMANOFF  
YOUR MEMORY LIVES ON.

HERE LIES BENJAMIN PARKER  
HERO, HUSBAND, UNCLE

He bawls, heart ripping from his chest. The boy shuns the scene before him, retreating as far as he can. Tripping, he falls flat.

The hard slats of the train tracks press into his skin and his spidey-sense screams. No sooner has it done this when dust begins to flake off his arms.

A hand swept through his chestnut hair, calming him, grounding him.

He felt the rumble of vibrations in the air; silent voices.

Peter rips open his eyes to the noiseless image of his dad smiling down on him.

Despite the possibility of Beck here to hurt him again, or the legitimacy of an afterlife, all he can focus on is the deafening quiet.

Unwilling to break their smiles, or even to reveal more weaknesses, he doesn’t say a word. Just grins tiredly.


End file.
